Numbuh 6
by darkollie77
Summary: Four years of training. I'm ready to go, right? The KND has a lot more in store for Georgia than she could ever have expected. It's a wild ride, but this ginger's ready to take it on along with her new friends, of course . OC


It's been a long time.

I can hardly remember how it used to be here, walking these streets, passing these houses …I haven't been back to this little town for years, not since I was just a little 6-year-old. That house has changed its paint; that tree has gotten taller; that signpost wasn't there before. But I remember every crack in the sidewalk, every place where the tree roots break the cement that tries to keep it down.

I keep walking, hoping I'll see a face I recognize, a person I remember, an old friend. And I'm rewarded.

"Georgie?"

There's a girl in front of me, a dark-skinned girl about my age, with her long dark hair in a braid under a red cap. Her mouth is open, and she's standing in the middle of the sidewalk like she can't believe I'm there. I smile. "Abby!"

She runs up to me and hugs me in an incredibly tight squeeze, making me lose my breath. But I can't help but laugh.

"Georgia, is it really you! Dang, it's been foreva! How you been?"

"I'm doing fine, Abby! How's your life?"

"Just the same, just the same…but how was Los Angeles? Numbuh Five can't believe you just up and moved so quickly…"

I smile, remembering the last 4 years. "It was great, really pretty and big. But…you just said Numbuh Five…You don't mean—"

"Yeah, honey! I'm one of the Kids Next Door!"

My jaw drops, although this was something I had somewhat suspected during my time away. Abby had always been a go-getter, fierce and tough. That didn't mean I wasn't still surprised, and I told her so.

"Well, Numbuh Five's surprised you didn't join up! Wasn't that your dream, Georgie?" Abby demanded.

I shrug. "Well, they said that I should go home and train. So I did."

Abby made a face. "That's stupid. You should come with Numbuh Five, you can meet the team!"

My eyes widen. "Do you really mean it, Abby?"

She winked. "Call me Numbuh Five!"

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I can't believe the size of the thing. It's huge.

It's easily the biggest tree I've ever seen, with various parts of the actual treehouse sticking out and painted with numbers and a large white "KND". To be quite honest, I'm not entirely sure how the thing hasn't toppled over by now.

"Big, ain't it?" Abby asks, grinning. I can't even reply, I'm so shocked.

"Numbuh Five, there you are!" cries a loud, cheerful-sounding voice. A rather chubby boy waves from one of the building areas. "Come on up, and—oh, bring your friend, too!" He disappears into the building, and Abby waves me into the elevator. "That's Numbuh Two," Abby says. "He's real…interestin'."

I don't exactly know what she means by this, but she laughs lightheartedly at my confused expression, so I guess it's nothing bad.

When the doors open I'm standing in one of the coolest treehouse rooms I've ever seen. With the big screen, comfortable-looking couches, and the stairs and doors that lead to who-knows-where, I can't take in enough. But I snap to attention when one of the doors open and the boy I saw earlier comes in.

"Hi! I'm Numbuh Two, but you can call me Hoagie," the grinning boy says. It's hard to tell what his eyes are doing, since they're covered with an aviator's hat and goggles.

"I'm Jameson Georgia, but you can call me Georgie," I reply, shaking his outstretched hand. "I used to live here, and I just came back from L.A..."

"L.A.?! Hoagie exclaims, nearly toppling over in his excitement. "Are you kidding me? I know, like, so many people there! They've got, like, this huge underground Yipper card thing going on..."

I'm saved from trying to carry a conversation with the card-smitten boy when another person enters, skipping and singing happily.

"Numbuh Three! Come meet Numbuh Five's friend," Abby calls.

"Oooh! Hi! My name's Kuki!" she giggles, shaking my hand through her long green sleeves. "Is that a RAINBOW MONKEY on your SHIRT?" she squeals. I glance down at my "punk'd rainbow monkey" T-shirt.

"Uh...yeah, my name's Georgie—"

"What's all the bloody noise in here!" a voice with a thick Australian accent demands. I glance around to see a frustrated blond kid in an orange sweatshirt standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. "I'm tryin' to sleep over here!"

"Numbuh Four, this is Georgia, Numbuh Five's old friend," Abby says. "Georgie, this is Wally. He's got anger issues."

"I-DO-NOT-HAVE-ANGER-ISSUES!" Wally yells. "AND FURTHERMORE—"

"Will you quiet down!"

Suddenly a hush falls over the room when the loud, commanding voice is heard. The doors at the top of the stairs flies open, and everyone stands poking their feet at the ground as he stomps down the steps. His sunglasses glint in the sunlight, and I'd be terrified…

…if he wasn't bald.

As it is, I do my best to hold in my laughter as he stomps up to Abby and asks her what's going on.

"Um, well, Numbuh 1, this is Numbuh Five's old friend, Georgia, and I was just showing her arou—"

"Is she an operative?"

"Well, no, but—"

"Numbuh Five, I am shocked! You know the rules! No non-KND member allowed in the treehouse except for emergencies! And is this an emergency?" Numbuh One yells. "Is it?!"

Abby shakes her head slowly, her eyes fixed on the floorboards. The bald boy glances at me. "Well? Since you're a friend of Numbuh five, you can leave. But don't tell ANYONE about what you saw in here. Especially not the Delightful Children from Down the Lane." Numbuh One shows me to the elevator, but before he sends me down he says, "I'm Nigel by the way. I'm sorry about this."

I grin. "Not a problem! I understand. Before I go, though…"

"Yes? What is it?" Nigel asks.

"Well, what address do I mail this KND recruit video to? The sector in L.A. wouldn't tell me."

Abby bursts out with an exclamation. "Are you really gonna? That's amazin—" she cuts off as Nigel raises his hand.

"You know what, you're a good kid. Here, give me the video," Nigel says, extending his hand. I give it to him gladly, pulling it out of my pocket and checking to make sure it's not scratched.

"I'll give this to Numbuh 86 directly, you'll have a better chance that way."

My eyes grow to their absolute full size. "Are you serious! You're kidding! You're totally kidding!"

Nigel shrugs. "No, of course not, I don't kid," he says.

Before the elevator doors close he smiles at me. "Good luck."

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Of course I don't tell anyone. What kind of person do you think I am? But I do tell my parents I saw Abby, and they gush and coo about how we used to be such great friends and all that baloney.

Then they hit me with the news that we're going to a neighbor's house for dinner tonight. I protest profusely (of course), complaining that I don't want to spend the night in a house with a bunch of adults. My parents try to calm me down, saying that there's a boy my age.

Great, because hanging out with someone of the opposite gender is something ten-year-olds like to do. I sit in my room in a huff and think about the treehouse and the video. I can't believe he would do something so nice for someone he just met. _He must really trust Abigail_, I think.

What about those other characters? Numbuh 2, or Hoagie, for one. He certainly was entertaining, a bona fide, sure-fire geek. But he had his charms…probably…Maybe he was funny.

And Numbuh 3 was really…giggly. Maybe we'll have a lot in common; maybe not. But I figure we'll be good friends.

As for Numbuh 4…

"Georgiaaaa! It's time to goooo!" my mom calls.

"HAIIIIIIII!" I reply, getting up from my bed. Navigating my way around all the unopened boxes, I make my way to the front door.

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The house isn't far; in fact, it's right across the street. A normal-looking house in a normal-looking neighborhood, with a normal-looking yard and a normal-looking car.

It's so normal I could choke.

My parents, armed with nothing but a dish full of mom's finest fruit salad_, _march up to the door and knock.

Knock, knock, knock, a hollow sound if you ask me, and it echoed—

Not even half as long as I expected.

Within seconds, the door is flung open by a cheerful-looking blonde woman carrying a tiny baby that looks oddly familiar. "Well, if it isn't the Jamesons! What lovely timing! We just finished up," she says in a distinct Australian accent, waving us inside.

"Waaaallll, the Jamesons! Sorry I couldn't meet ya earlier, I was at the ol' workplace!" A tall (and also blond) man shakes my parents' hands, speaking with the same accent.

"This is little Joey," the woman says, showing us her baby. "Isn't he sweet?" I have to admit, he is rather cute, and I say so. He reminds me of someone, but I can't quite put my finger on it.

"This is our daughter, Georgia." My own parents introduce me and I bow respectfully.

"Waaaallll, isn't that nice! I'm Mr. Beatles—"

"And I'm Mrs. Beatles. How lovely to meet you, dear!"

My father leans in towards Mr. Beatles, as if I can't hear: "Did you say you had a son about her age?"

Mr. Beatles grins and nods, apparently missing the point of keeping his voice down and practically shouts "Yea,of course we do! Lemme just call the ol' son out here. WWWAAAAAAALLLLAAABBBBEEEEEE!"

My head pops up. _Wallabee? Wasn't that kid named Wally? _But I'm probably wrong. Right?

"Comin', I'm comin'! Jeez!"

The short blond boy bursts into the dining room, wearing the same thing he was in the treehouse (not to mention the same irritated facial expression). He rolls his eyes, saying, "Yes, hello, my name is Wallabee Beatles, nice to meet yo—"

I wave quietly from behind my parents. The Australian boy's face turns red, and he starts to sputter: "Y-Y-you—"

"Wat's the matter, Wallabee?" his mother asks.

He shakes his head. "Nothin'. It's nothin'."

"Wall, we've still got the ol' turkey in the oven, so why don't we sit down in the ol' livin' room and have a lovely chat?" Mrs. Beatles suggests.

"Perhaps the children could play elsewhere?" my mother suggests hopefully.

"Excellent idea! Sport, why don't you show Georgia your room?"

Wally rolls his eyes at his father's suggestion, though it's a bit hard to catch since his hair's way too long. "Paaa, she doesn't want to see my room!" he complains loudly.

"Oh, come on Wallabee, you can show her your trophies!"

The KND operative's face collapses in defeat, and he waves me out of the room.

"Blimey, this is so stupid..." he mutters.

"I can hear you, you know," I inform him. "You were going to show me your trophies?" Admittedly, I am a bit curious about what sort of trophies he has.

"Yeah, yeah, just lemme clean up my room a bit. It's way too cool for you right now," he boasts.

"It's covered in underwear, isn't it?"

"...shut up!"

A few minutes later, the door to his room opens. "You can come in now."

I do so, and glance around the still-quite-messy room. "So if I open this, will I be attacked with a flood of dirty underwear?" I ask, pointing at the closet door.

"Don't touch it."

Glancing around, I spot several shining trophies above an extremely dusty desk. _No time wasted in studying, I see, _I think to myself.

"So these are all yours?"

Wally nods proudly, leaning on his bedpost. "Darn right they are! There's a baseball one, and soccer, oh, and football..."

"What the heck are these?" I ask, pointing to a whole bunch decorated with plain, no-pattern balls.

He rolls his eyes again, a habit that's really starting to get on my nerves. "Dodgeball! Obviously!"

I tilt my head to the side. "You can get trophies for that?"

"Of course, only an idiot wouldn't know that!" he laughs. _Then how is it that you know it,_ I think again.

"I'm the world champion in dodgeball, of course. I'm amazing."

"It's probably because you're such a small target," I laugh.

Wally's face turns the most amusing shade of red, somewhere between red delicious and tomato. "Shut UP!"

I grin. "Cool it, I'm only teasing."

We sit on his bed in the midst of awkwardness, when he speaks up.

"Are you really trying out for the KND?" he asks.

I nod. "Yeah, since me and Ab-Numbuh Five were little, we wanted to be operatives," I reply, smiling a bit to myself. "And then I had to move to L.A. and I wasn't able to join, because the sector there was like, 'you're too weak, go train'."

"And did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Did you train."

I shrug. "Well, there was a gym nearby and when I got bored with that, I did some parkour and archery and shooting training."

Wally raises an eyebrow. Which, again, is nearly completely hidden by his ridiculously long hair. "You did parkour?" he asks incredulously.

"Hey, I'm a lot of things, but I'm not a liar."

"WWWAAAAAAALLLLAAABBBEEEEEEEE EEEEEE! DDIIIINNNNERRRR!"

"Georgia, time for dinner sweetie!"

We glance at each other. "PARENTS."

The dinner's nicer than I had originally thought, with just the occasional awkward moment and only one disgusting veggie dish. Which is still one more than I'd like, but hey.

Finally the adults drift back to the 'ol' livin' room' to chat some more, and Wally and I head back to his room to talk some more ourselves.

"Why do you go by 'Georgie' anyway?" he asks.

"Why ever not, Wallabee Beatles?" I reply, using my most annoying British accent.

"Shut up. It sounds like a guy's name, right?"

I shrug for the umpteenth time that night. "I dunno. People kept asking me if I was a state."

Wally's eyes widen. "There's a state named GEORGIA?"

I burst out laughing, then laugh even harder when I realize he's not joking. He keeps trying to talk over my side-splitting laughter, asking why I'm laughing, and it doesn't help at all.

Minutes later, we're both gulping lungfulls of air after laughing so much. Wally glances over at me.

"Not that I don't believe you, but I wanna see you do some parkour sometime."

I grin. "Only if you don't mind being shown up."

"As if you could ever show me up!" he scoffs.

The visit's over all too soon, and we wind up promising to meet with everyone tomorrow. At home in my bed, I think about my video and how Numbuh 86 might be watching it right now. I grin and pull the covers up a bit. "Home at last," I whisper into the darkness.


End file.
